


Across A Crowded Room

by Redrikki



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/pseuds/Redrikki
Summary: It's a party in his honor, but it turns out the Hero Without Fear isn't good with crowds. Padmé to the rescue!





	Across A Crowded Room

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [hurt/comfort bingo](http://hc-bingo.dreamwidth.org/145157.html?thread=945669) challenge "hostile climate" and the tumblr prompt "please come get me."

Padmé was trapped in a conversation with the odious Senator Orn Free Taa at a self-congratulatory soiree following the liberation of Ryloth when her com link beeped with an incoming text message. It couldn’t have come at a better time. Taa was an aggressive personal space invader when he’d been drinking and he’s certainly had a few tonight. He was trying to get her vote for a Ryloth recovery bill and Padmé might have been inclined to listen if he would just stop touching her.

“I’m sorry,” Padmé lied, peeling his hand off her arm. “I have to take this.” She backed firmly away to check her message.

It was from Anakin. _Help! Come get me._

Padmé frowned in confusion. The last she knew, Anakin was in the room. She stood on tip-toe and craned her neck to see if she could find him. Her gaze skimmed across hair, horn, lekku, and an interesting assortment of hats. She thought she spotted a familiar dark blond head on the far side of the crowd, but the room was so full it was difficult to tell. This party was at least partially in his honor. What could he possibly need her to rescue him from?

“Is there a problem, Senator Amidala?”

“Family emergency,” Padmé said absently as she tried to puzzle it out. With a jolt, she realized what she’d just said. “If you’ll excuse me?” She bowed politely to the senator and hurried off to collect her husband.

It took her nearly five minutes to work her way through the crowd. The room was packed and sweltering. Politicians, guild-leaders, and socialites swirled around the heroes of the Ryloth campaign, all straining for a holo op. There was Cham Syndulla, holding court and ranting about the evils of indentured servitude. She exchanged a nod with Master Kenobi from his circle of admires and another with Bail Organa as he talked with a stone-faced Master Windu. Despite the occasion, there were hardly any Twi’lek present and most of them were servers. There were, however, plenty of people involved in the spice trade. They were certainly thrilled to have Ryloth back under Republic control.

But where was Anakin? As the tactician behind the successful air campaign, he should have been right in the thick of it. Maybe he was sick? After a moment’s consideration, Padmé decided to start her search by the freshers but she’d barely gone a few steps when she spotted Anakin pinned up against the wall. He had been brought to bay by a Pantoran woman Padmé recognized from the HoloNet. The woman had a reputation as a hard-hitting journalist, but, from the way she was clinging to Anakin’s side, she was after more than just a scoop from the Hero With No Fear. 

Padmé’s hands curled into fists. How dare this woman touch her husband! Couldn’t she see how uncomfortable he was? Anakin tried to sidle away from his pursuer and ended up colliding with a potted plant. Padmé took the opportunity to swoop in. Anakin jerked his head up from where he was attempting to both fend off the reporter and right the plant. He met her gaze with a look of pure desperation.

“Master Skywalker,” Padmé called, bustling forward like a woman on a mission, “thank goodness I found you. I just saw your padawan. I think she’s ill.” Ahsoka wasn’t even here, but Padmé doubted the other woman knew that. 

Anakin shook off the reporter with a haste that bordered on rudeness. “Sorry,” he lied. “Jedi business,” he added, and bolted for the safety of Padmé’s side.

“Let me show you where I saw her.” Padmé took his arm and lead him from the ball room. His shoulders slumped with relief as they hit the relatively-cooler air of the foyer. 

Anakin glanced over his shoulder into the room behind. “Um, where are we going?”

As representatives of the Republic, they probably should turn back around and make the requisite small-talk. As one of the heroes of the hour, Anakin especially should be doing his bit for the war effort. It was clear though that he was at his breaking point. Funny how he was alright with being shot at or set adrift in space, but balked at being the center of attention. Not that she could entirely blame him. Despite having been raised at such gatherings, even Padmé was tired of the noise and heat. “I was thinking my apartment.”

Anakin looked at her with his heart in his eyes. “Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?”

Padmé melted against his side. “Yes, but we can discuss it more at home.”


End file.
